


Delete Clipart

by Oort



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oort/pseuds/Oort
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov wore clip-on ties. Yuuri had somehow failed to notice this.





	

Viktor Nikiforov, five-time Grand Prix gold medal winner, hero of Russia and veritable prince of the international men’s competitive figure skating circuit, could not tie a tie.

Yuuri had learned this, as he learned most things about Viktor, completely by surprise.The two of them had been trying to leave the hotel for dinner when the ubiquitous mob of press had surrounded them, and Yuuri had been tired, and hungry. He hadn’t eaten much that morning, over-correcting for the nervous pull to eat too much. Viktor, smiling to pretend he wasn’t worried, had forked his own eggs over onto Yuuri’s almost-empty plate before Yuuri had noticed and rapped Viktor’s knuckles with his spoon. 

He’d wrapped his hand around Viktor’s tie and given it a pull. Because he’d liked it, that first time, had liked how it made him feel steadier, in control, had liked how it had made Viktor _pay attention_ to him. Because, after the shy, stuttering question in the spaces between the cameras and the noise, Viktor had told him how _very_ much he’d liked it too.

So Yuuri was not prepared, then, to find himself in sudden possession of Viktor’s tie, with Viktor unattached to it, and twenty flash-bulbs going off at the stunned expressions on both of their faces.Yuuri stared, uncomprehending, at the tie in his hand (why did it look so oddly-shaped, was that a _clip on the back_ ) and then at Viktor’s empty collar, and then back at the tie and then up to Viktor’s bright-with-laughter eyes.

_I can’t deal with this right now,_ Yuuri realized, and reached for Viktor’s hand instead, and tugged at it until Viktor detached himself from the knot of reporters and took Yuuri along with him in the direction of food.

* * *

“But _how,_ ” Yuuri said, after scraped-clean plates and a healthy glass of the wine Viktor had ordered. “You’ve been wearing suits since—since before you could buy your own _passport_ , how on earth—”

“There was always someone to tie it for me,” said Viktor, shrugging. He’d had more of the wine than Yuuri had, unsurprisingly, but not enough that he was trying to wiggle out of his clothes, just comfortably loose-limbed and chasing Yuuri’s feet with his own under the table (which, to be fair, he did while sober).“Yakov, and then—well nobody ever minded, when I asked them.Your mother told me I was sweet,” he said, and smiled at Yuuri’s sputter.  
  
“When did— _my mother—”_

“She told me about _your_ first tie, how proud you were in your school uniform…”  
  
“Oh my god,” Yuuri said, and covered his face with his hands. “I’m going to die.”

“No don’t, I’ll waste away without you,” Viktor said, pouting. Yuuri kicked him in the shin. Not even hard, but Viktor yelped and put a hand to his chest as if he’d been deeply wounded. “Ah, Yuuri!”

Yuuri held up his palms, apologetic, and then shook his head at himself once he realized what he was doing. He clasped his hands together on top of his crumpled napkin. “But a clip-on? Viktor, really? Was there nobody around this time? I could’ve—you could’ve asked me!”

How had he managed to miss this, all the months he’d been training with Viktor, living with him, sharing—well, almost every waking hour, and now some of the sleeping ones, too? How had he been so utterly unobservant as to _not notice_ that Viktor Nikiforov, who he’d been watching almost since he’d put on his first pair of skates, never tied his own ties?

“I thought about it,” Viktor acknowledged. “But you seemed so grumpy, and I had the clip-on anyway! It’s so much easier!”  


Yuuri hid his expression behind another sip of wine before he did something ill-advised like reach out in the middle of a crowded restaurant and tangle his fingers in Viktor’s hair, which had parted artfully around Viktor’s upturned cheekbone because of _course_ it had, and Viktor knew it. _Clip-on tie, you’re in shock,_ he reminded himself. Viktor had grown up surrounded by stylists.Yuuri wanted to track every one of them down and give them each a bouquet and an apology note.

One of Viktor’s gestures caught the lip of the wine bottle and sent it teetering. Viktor and Yuuri reached for it at the same time, hands overlapping on the glass, and Yuuri smiled and tried not to blush when Viktor took the chance to lace their fingers together. _You’re silly but you’re mine_ , Yuuri thought, and then he _did_ blush, and Viktor teased him, even as he brought Yuuri’s hand up to his mouth to kiss.

* * *

“Okay,” Yuuri said.  The morning light that streamed in through the window was bright, blinding; he squinted at himself in the mirror and adjusted his position so that his back was blocking the brunt of it. The tie around his neck was red, because Viktor had tried to set fire to his blue one ( _“Viktor!” “It’s terrible, Yuuri, I’m doing you a favor!”_ ) and Viktor was decked out on one of the _real_ ties he’d packed in his suitcase, slim and black.  “Ready?”

“I’ll keep my eyes on you,” Viktor said, and laughed when Yuuri fumbled buttoning the top of his shirt. “But Yuuri, is this truly necessary?I’ve managed until now just fine.”

Yuuri ignored him, because he and Viktor had had that argument last night, and because #ViktorNikiforovTieFail had been trending for the past several hours (Phichit had been _delighted_ ). “You’ve got to start with one end longer than the other, like this.”He adjusted his tie and waited for Viktor to do the same; Viktor caught his eyes in the mirror and smiled. “Now you cross the long end over the short end.”

Viktor’s nimble genius on the ice did not translate over to neckties, Yuuri quickly learned.Eight misshapen attempts later, with Viktor looking as amicably baffled as he had at the start, Yuuri called a halt so he could tilt his glasses up and pinch the bridge of his nose.  
  
“Let’s try something else,” he said. “You do it and I’ll guide you?”He grasped Viktor’s wrists and drew them toward him so Viktor would understand. Viktor brightened under his touch.  
  
“You’re still trying too much for an old man,” Viktor said, token resistance that didn’t mean a thing, but Yuuri heard the bite under his words like he always did. How could he not? He was twenty-four, he’d felt it himself.Yuuri concentrated on making Viktor cross his hands, right over left, and didn’t ask the question, because he never did, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand the answer.

Viktor misjudged the slide of fabric under his fingers, dropped it down onto his chest; Yuuri watched helplessly as the almost-decent knot the two of them had managed to make drooped and unfurled back to nothing.He stared at the trailing ends of the tie, wondering if maybe he ought to demonstrate again; was brought back to attention by the gentle press of Viktor’s thumb at the corner of his jaw.  
  
“You’re scowling so hard you’ll scare the poor thing,” Viktor said.His tone was light but his voice was too soft to mean just joking, and Yuuri found he had to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat.

He let himself slump forward to rest his cheek on Viktor’s shoulder, and Viktor did the rest for him, wound his arms around Yuuri’s torso and stroked a soothing arc across the nape of Yuuri’s neck. 

“My Yuuri,” Viktor said, even softer than before.Yuuri closed his eyes.

“It’s just a tie,” he mumbled, when he was certain he could speak without wavering.“C’mon. Let’s try it again.”He forced himself to push away enough to get his hands between them again.

“If I never get it at least I’ll have you to help me every time I need to get dressed up,” Viktor said, petting the back of Yuuri’s head.His eyes were warm and melting and just a little bit worried, and Yuuri leaned in to kiss him because he suddenly couldn’t do anything else.Viktor made a small noise of contentment and kissed him back, his other hand sweeping up to join the first one in Yuuri’s hair. 

When they drew apart, finally, Viktor’s lips were wet and swollen, his breathing ragged. Yuuri knew he looked the same. He drew his tongue over his bottom lip, self-consciousness creeping back in, and flushed at the way Viktor’s eyes followed the motion.

“We really ought to get going,” Yuuri said, and he could hear how breathless he was.  He tried to step back but was stopped by a sharp tug from the front; he looked down and saw that Victor had closed his hand around his tie. 

“I’m beginning to see the appeal,” Viktor said, sparkling. Yuuri groaned but Viktor had already let him go, and then before he could respond Viktor turned him around and gave him a shove in the direction of his suitcase. “You’re right, we’re losing daytime, go go go!”

* * *

Small piece at the bottom of the Sports Section—Tuesday 

FIT TO BE TIED

Viktor Nikiforov has added a new and valuable skill to his repertoire: tying a tie.The decorated skater surprised reporters and bystanders last night by announcing that he no longer had to resort to clip-on neckwear and then undoing and re-doing his own tie in front of them for proof.  
  
Yuuri Katsuki, Nikiforov’s protégé, was present at the scene and stated that he was proud of his coach, a statement that Nikiforov found warranted another demonstration, despite Katsuki’s protestations.

 

**Author's Note:**

> And then when they get married Viktor asks Yuuri’s mother to do his tie again “for tradition” and Yuuri shoots them exasperated-yet-fond glances over the top of his glasses.
> 
> If you want to chat about this fic or anything else, you can hit me up on my [writing blog](http://usefulthumbs.tumblr.com/).


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